Incidents of Cinnamon
by yourpainfulnightmare
Summary: Things go a bit awry at 51 when Chet and Johnny do the cinnamon challenge.


Hank rubbed small circles on his temples as the voices outside of his office door rose in volume. A heavy sigh escaped, making him fear for a second that the ever-growing towers of paperwork would be blown onto his floor.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Gage. You know that!" Chet's voice reverberated through the station. Johnny's voice followed, though at considerably fewer decibels. Regardless, Hank could hear the smirk.

The sound of drawers pulled open found their way into his office, then a series of small clicks. With a mix of interest and irritation at what the boys were doing, Hank pushed his chair back and walked into the kitchen.

Roy leaned on the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand and a smirk on his face. Next to him, Mike was refraining from laughing; Hank could tell by the way his chest tensed periodically. Marco had his back turned, sifting through the silverware drawer. John and Chet sat at the table, glaring daggers at one another. Between them, a tin of cinnamon sat, its label clear in the light.

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" The captain inquired, confused.

"Something called the cinnamon challenge, Cap." Roy answered.

At Hank's raised eyebrow, Roy continued. "They have to eat a tablespoon of cinnamon in sixty seconds without water." He shrugged. "Something Chet told us about."

Hank slowly nodded, then turned his attention to the table where Marco was measuring cinnamon onto two tablespoons.

Handing one to each of the men sitting at the table, Marco looked at his watch. "Ready, set…GO!"

John and Chet quickly raised their spoons to their mouths and began to eat the sandy powder. The curly-haired Irishman decided to start with half of the spoon, while his opponent ate all his in one smooth motion.

The rest of A-shift watched with various levels of pity, pain, and amusement as the contestants' faces cycled from self-assured to watery eyes. Their jaws clenched, each determined to win.

Finally, Chet made a strangled noise and coughed, sending cinnamon into the air.

Roy hurriedly slid his mug on the counter and positioned himself behind Chet to start the Heimlich maneuver.

Chet held up a hand, signaling that he was okay, contrary to his heaving chest and clouds of cinnamon settling on his lap and the table.

Johnny sniggered, and then abruptly stopped. The urge to cough clawed its way up his throat, touching every grain of cinnamon that coated every surface of his mouth.

The word "aspirating" crossed his mind and he gave in and coughed.

Cinnamon could have been mistaken for a bad paint job. It dusted the floor, the table, and the tips of the captain's shoes.

"Sorry," he choked out to Hank. He couldn't hear a response-if there was one-over the new round of coughing fits.

He stood up, haphazardly hitting the chair back, then staggering to the counter where Roy had left his coffee.

Hank watched Mike and Marco leaning into each other, laughing with tears streaming down their cheeks, then Chet as he stuck his head into the sink and ran the water right into his mouth.

Johnny turned around and leaned his weight onto the counter, grateful that the burning had mostly stopped.

Looking at Chet, he gave a grin that would shame the Cheshire cat. "Looks like I win."

Chet's head snapped up indignantly. "I swallowed more than you, Pally."

John scoffed. "You _spit _more out than me, Kelly."

"Let's ask the guys, then." Chet turned to face the kitchen. "Who won?"

Roy put his hands up in surrender. "I'm not getting involved in this one."

Mike shook his head, and Marco did as well. "No, no, no. Don't figure _I'm _stupid enough for that."

Before they could turn to their captain, Hank answered. "Don't look at me."

Silence filled the room. All of the men standing scanned the faces of the others, calculating the likeliness that this battle was over. Nobody was coming up with high results.

Johnny's voice broke through the still air. "I won, and you know it." He announced.

Chet huffed and crossed his arms. "_I_ got more down, Gagey-baby. _That's _the point of the cinnamon challenge! Not to _hold _it.

Johnny rolled his eyes. "You spit it out! How'm I supposed to know how much you swallowed?"

Chet leaned forward. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Johnny crossed his legs. "If you're so sure you won, I think there oughta be a rematch."

Chet extended his arm, waiting for a handshake. "Then we'll rematch. Deal?"

Johnny took the proffered hand. "Deal."

The rest of A-shift groaned, preparing themselves for round two.

"Marco! Do we have more cinnamon?"

Hank sighed, then headed to his office and slowly shut the door.

**A/N: This was written from the prompt "Imagine your OTP doing the cinnamon challenge together." From imagineyourotp on Tumblr. Feel free to use it if you like, or not. I hope you enjoyed it!**


End file.
